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Ang. Preserve me to Night from the Fury of this incen'st Man: To morrow we may repair the time that has been lost.
L. Dor. Which we might not have lost neither—but we have been both to blame.
Ang. To Morrow all shall be mended.
L. Dor. Shall it indeed?
Ang. Upon Condition, that this Bellamour comes here no more; I thought you had forbid him your House.
L. Dor. All Men you see don't mind us when we forbid. I promise you after this Night he shall never more be admitted; my Neice shall sooner couple with a Vulture or a Bear. This interruption is new Guilt.
Ang. That is all I ask.
L. Dor. Remember then to Morrow.
Ang. By this Kiss. (Kisses her Hand.) (Exit Angelica.
Re-enter Placket.
L. Dor. Placket, are the other Gentlemen here?
Plack. They were here, Madam: And I thought I had lockt 'em up safe, but when I went to lock just now, I found the Lock of the Closet Door broke, and they were gone.
L. Dor. Curst Disappointments.
Plack. The Chaplain, Madam, is not yet gone to Bed.
L. Dor. Tell him I must have Prayers presently, and bring him into my Closet; and d'ye hear, lay the Books on the Table.
Plack. That is, the Cups and the Bottle of Orange-flow'r Brandy. (Exeunt.
Enter Lucinda and Bellamour.
Lucind. Now the Angry Fit is over, you are come to beg Pardon; this is the Trick of you Men: You Quarrel on purpose to try, whether our Fondness is great enough, to excuse the Insolencies of your Passion, and then think to Lord it as you please.
